


Not in front of the Klingons

by adarkwintersday



Series: Hide Those Ears [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adarkwintersday/pseuds/adarkwintersday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True love only dies if you let it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

K

 

 

‘Bones.  We need him.’  You hesitate.  But the doctor is already acquainted - all too well - with the personal nature of the situation.  You meet Spock’s eyes.  ‘ _I_ need him.’

‘Then my presence is to our mutual advantage.’  His face, his voice - they give you _nothing_.

 

Spock has not always been an easy Vulcan to love.

 

Perhaps he has been disturbed, sometimes, by your human-ness.  Your physical frailty, your ambition - your _roving eye_.

 

But set that against loving a mind in which brilliance and idealism are in constant conflict. 

 

With time (it's been _four years_ __ __ __ __now) the relationship has become more equal.  You are still _Captain_.  You still own him.  But with the evolution of intimacy has come - not a rebellion.  Merely an understanding of mutual possession.

 

Spock can command you with the touch of his hand.  With the flicker of an eye.

 

And yet, as implicit as his faithfulness, or his restless search for a _something else,_ is his obedience.  Your sexual fidelity has been in question, more than once - and Spock has shrugged it off.  But he has hurt you more - or so you try to tell yourself - with his quest for the absolute.  For some sort of metaphysical unity with the universe.  

 

You don’t really understand why he needs _the_ _universe_ \- when, for you, _to have and to hold_ is almost enough.

 

But you _are_ still - _Captain_.

 

Your wants, your petty orders - your selfish need for him.  These things still countermand the cosmos.  And at your word he will always - eventually, but without question - come home.      

 

~

  

This, at least, is what you thought.  But apparently, somewhere between the stifling boredom and frustration of pushing papers in San Francisco, and your hopeless inability to keep your eyes from wandering…somewhere  the connection between you - that absolute, implicit faith, that existed even before you were lovers - had come unstuck.  Because then came the _Kolinahr_.

 

There was no big announcement.  No tears and tantrums.  Spock raised the matter so quietly - and perhaps, too, you weren’t really paying attention - that it took you days to understand him.  To understand the implications.

 

‘You will still matter to me, Jim.’  ‘Yes.  Just as much as _anyone else_.’  ‘Everyone matters.’  ‘That’s not the point.’  ‘Jim, listen.  I do understand - ’  ‘ _No, you don’t_.’

 

After that, the conversations only got worse.

 

‘I think we should both be clear about this.  You’re _leaving_.’  ‘Not forever, Jim.’  ‘You think I want you back like _that_?  When you’re some kind of emotionless husk?’

 

And worse.

 

‘You think I love you for your _mind_ , Spock?  You think, after all this, that’s ever going to be enough?’

‘Perhaps, Jim, there are others who can satisfy your physical needs.’

‘ _Christ_ , Spock.  Is that what this is about?  Is that what you really _think_?’  

 

After that, you both said a few of those things that it’s difficult to take back.

 

 

~

 

 

The past six months has been a strange procession of empty days, and sleepless nights.  

 

Ironically, your appreciation for a pretty face..it’s become clear to you that it’s nothing more than a time-old reflex.  The idea of doing anything about it…

 

When you sleep at all, you dream of the desert. 

 

 

~

 

 

Spock has come back to you now, as he always does.

 

But he’s still behaving like a cold-blooded (albeit infuriatingly beautiful) lizard.

 

 

 

S

 

 

Undertaking the _Kolinahr_ was a logical decision, logically arrived at.  Logic informed you that, under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation.

 

In a sense, therefore, it was fortunate that you were already desperate.

 

You have one of the most brilliant intellects in the known universe.  But you cannot solve the problem of _love_.  So muddled, so compromised, so _compromising_ \- and yet so absolute.  And more and more, with the strain of it, you feared that you would crack.  That you would come unstuck.

 

Or that you would lose his heart.

 

‘ _I need him_ ,’ he says, and you hear the sincerity in his voice - and read the message in his eyes. 

 

He is still yours.

 

But - this _consciousness_ , travelling towards you through space.  _Thought patterns of an exactingly perfect order_.  A perfect mind.

 

It may hold your answers.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Jim?’  It’s the doctor.  ‘If this _super-intelligence_ is as important to him as he says it is - how can we know - ’

‘That he wouldn’t put his own interests ahead of the ship’s?’  You don’t need him to spell it out.  But - _no_.  No.  ‘I could never believe that.’

 

The doctor’s face is an all-too-familiar mixture of concern and exasperation.

 

The home planet is under threat.

 

And the Captain and his Science Officer are having a domestic. 

 

 

 

/

 

 

Back in his own quarters, the doctor resists the urge to hit the wall with his head.

 

He pours himself a very stiff brandy instead.

 

Jim is one of his oldest friends, and (he would never admit it to anyone but himself) he is deeply attached to Spock.  

 

But these are _serious times_ , and they call for serious measures.  And, after five years serving with them both on the _Enterprise_ , he is frighteningly aware of the facts.

 

Spock without Jim is a Vulcan without a compass.  And Jim without Spock is a man without a map. 

 

They’re the most brilliant pair of fool-headed heroes in the Federation.

 

But _Spock-without-Jim_.  Or _Jim-without-Spock_. 

 

It never works.

 

They always get lost.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Sir, airlock four has been opened.  A thruster suit is reported missing.’

‘A _thruster_ _suit?_   That’s…’ 

_Spock._

_Damn him_.

Unwittingly, you have spoken the words out loud.  But the startled, speculative glances of the bridge crew are the last thing on your mind.  

 

He didn’t come back to you.  

 

He came looking for _it_.

 

 

 

K

 

 

He is silent on the sick-bay bed, while the doctor shows you the scans.  And then he _laughs_.  A soft chuckle - a sound so incredibly rare - and so incredibly _private_ \- that it has you running to his side. 

 

And he says your name, and smiles at you, as if everything’s alright - but you can’t smile back, because you don’t know that yet.  Are still horribly frightened that - 

 

‘Were you right?  About V’Ger?’

 

‘I saw V’Ger’s planet,’ he tells you.  ‘A planet populated by living machines.  Unbelievable technology.’  And then he meets your eyes, and suddenly - 

 

Suddenly perhaps you can save the planet.

 

‘V’Ger has knowledge that spans the universe.  And yet, with all this _pure logic -_ V’Ger is barren.  Cold.  No mystery - no beauty.  I should have…known…’

 

‘Known?  Known what?’  Your heart is in your throat, and he is fading out - and you catch hold of him, urgent.  ‘ _Spock_.’

Bones takes your shoulder.  ‘Captain - ’

And you shrug him impatiently off.  This is not a medical matter.  This is a matter of - 

‘ _Spock_.  What should you have known?’

 

And then he takes your hand in his.

 

And the entire universe falls into place.

 

‘ _This_.’

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘It knows only that it needs, commander.  But, like so many of us - it does not know what.’

Of all those here, only the doctor will notice the flicker that passes between you.  And even he cannot understand how much is said.

 

 _Apology accepted, Mr. Spock_.

 

You get back to the business of saving Earth.

 

 


	2. II

K

 

 

He has even met your parents.

 

In Iowa, Spock made a bit of a stir.

 

In three hundred years, Iowa hasn’t changed much.

 

Everyone knows about the galactic heroes - Captain Spock, and Admiral James T. Kirk.

 

It’s just that in Iowa - no-one’s ever _actually met_ someone who isn’t from Earth.

 

‘Jim - people keep asking to _touch my ears_.’

‘I’m sorry.  We’ll leave tomorrow.’

‘I know it is illogical to feel uncomfortable.  I appreciate that they mean well.’

‘ _I’m sorry_ , Spock.  And just as sorry about my parents.’

‘They are remarkable.’

‘They’re mad.’

‘I had a most interesting conversation with your mother about astrophysics over breakfast.’

‘ _Mad_.’

‘Jim.  Given the status of our relationship, it would be illogical to employ pleasantries.  I genuinely take pleasure in spending time with your parents.  I would not say this merely to please you - because, eventually, I would doubtless betray myself.’

 

Your parents both have multiple PhDs.  They are a pair of mad, brilliant reclusives, who have buried themselves in Iowa, and devoted their lives to the pursuit of science, and are genuinely rather disappointed that you became a Federation-renowned hero, and not (like poor Sam) a nerd.

 

Every lover you have ever had has been terrified of your parents.

 

They may be the only thing that still scares you.

 

Spock finds them delightful, and chats with your mother about astrophysics, over coffee and toast.

 

Spock and your mother are the things that you love most in the world.

 

You slightly want to kill them both.

 

You are undoubtedly getting old.

 

 

 

K

 

 

It’s been _sixteen years_ \- approximately.  Spock would be able to tell you to the last decimal.  You are a little vaguer - although better than Spock at remembering birthdays (he humours you these days, and pretends to appreciate that, for you, they are in some way significant) - and you know exactly when his next _Pon Farr_ is.  Partly because it means that, for a couple of weeks, your sex-life will be feverish, and adrenaline-driven, and potentially actually dangerous - and partly because you worry that, next time, you won’t be able to keep up.

 

Next time, you will be _fifty five._  

 

And Vulcans can go for days without sleep.

 

 

 

K

 

 

 _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times_.

 

He pretends to understand why your birthday is, to you, significant - and has given you a birthday present.

 

But why this?

 

‘A message, Spock?’

‘Not that I am conscious of.’

 

 _Semantic games_ , you fleetingly think.  But there’s no time to argue about it - 

 

Because Spock is beaming aboard the _Enterprise_.

 

‘ _Home_ ,’ you say, before you part.

Meaning it to sound like a joke, but it doesn’t - you can tell as much from his eyes.  

 

 _Home_ , where you were young and foolish and muddled together, where you fell in love with each other, where adventures were had, and games were played, in corridors, and turbolifts, and _the Captain’s quarters_ - 

 

You almost feel that you could bear being unhappy, if you could conceal it from Spock.  But he can read you like _A Tale of Two Cities_.  Your discontent causes him pain, which, after sixteen years, even he cannot entirely hide - and the whole thing goes in circles.  

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘If I may be so bold - it was a mistake for you to accept promotion.  Commanding a starship is your first, best destiny.  Anything else is a waste of material.’

‘I would not presume to debate you.’

‘That is wise.’

You catch his eye, and smile.  You have both played this game, now, for so many years.  

 

The dictates of logic.  _Logic dictates_ that he follows you.  That he protects you.  That your happiness is paramount.

 

It is quite remarkable how the dictates of logic always seem to coincide with the dictates of love.  

 

‘Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’

‘Or the one.’

 _Oh Spock_.

 

Why are the needs of _the one_ always the needs of Spock, and the needs of _the many_ the needs of Admiral Kirk?

 

You have been on to him, now, for so very long.  And yet… 

 

Sometimes you are almost frightened by his readiness to sacrifice himself.

 

~

 

The Vulcan word _t’hy’la_ implies _the one_.  The _significant other_.  But it translates, variously, into _friend_ , _brother_ , and _lover_.  Spock’s favourite translation is _friend_.  And remains so, infuriatingly, regardless of how many times you argue that, given the facts, another translation is more _logical_.

 

You steal some time to debate those facts, between this scene and the one that follows.  

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Jim.  Be careful.’

 

You are surprised.  He almost never talks like a lover in public - even though, certainly among _old-Enterprisers_ , it’s an open secret.  _Admiral, I suggest that you employ extreme caution_ \- that kind of thing. 

 

You are startled by the strain in his voice.  Does he think that you are too old, too out of practise, to take care of yourself?

 

‘ _We_ will,’ says Bones - with what you sense to be only half make-believe indignation.  

 

And then you realise that the doctor, too, is frightened.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘He _cheated_.’  

You have never had a son before.  But already you understand why people find them irritating.

‘I changed the conditions of the test.’  All these years later, you can’t help feeling cocky.  ‘Got a commendation, for _original thinking_.  I don’t like to lose.’

‘Then you never faced that situation.’  The girl looks at you seriously.  ‘Faced death.’

‘I don’t believe in the no-win scenario.’  You flip open the communicator.  ‘Kirk to Spock.  It’s two hours.  Are you ready?’

‘Right on schedule, Admiral.  Just give us your co-ordinates, and we’ll beam you aboard.’

 

Their faces are astonished - and the sound of his voice makes your blood sing.  Your wingman.  Your win-win scenario.  Your partner-in-crime.

 

With Spock at your side, you don’t believe in losing.  

 

He will manage the impossible for you.  Every time.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Spock.  You remember Dr. Marcus.’

‘Why, of course.’

‘Hello, Mr. Spock.’

They are both so impeccably polite.  

 

You don’t worry too much.

 

You have had enough lovers, in enough parts of the galaxy, to get used to occasionally having to introduce them to one another.

 

More importantly, though - you feel you should get it out of the way now.  ‘That young man,’ you say to Spock, as you are scrambling up the emergency shaft.  ‘He’s my _son_.’

‘Fascinating.’  He voice is detached - but a little too ironic.  Just that creeping tone of dark.  

 

Just a little - he _minds_.

 

Well then - that’s alright.

 

 

 

K

 

 

Adrenaline courses through your veins.  

 

You have won.  You have beaten the odds once again.

 

‘Engine Room.  Well done, Scotty.’

But it’s not Scotty’s voice that travels back to you via the intercom.  ‘Jim.  I think - you’d better get down here.’

‘Bones?’

His voice is - _wrong_.

‘Better - hurry.’

 

And suddenly you notice the empty chair.  Suddenly every cell in your body is deprived of air.  Suddenly - 

 

Even running, it must have taken you several minutes to get to the Engine Room.  You must have made that journey.  But you will never be able to recall it.  Only - 

 

‘ _No_ \- you’ll flood the whole compartment.’

‘He’ll _die_.’

‘ _He’s dead already_.’

 

You have just woken up in hell.  Your best friends are holding you back.  And in front of you is - 

 

 _It’s too late_.

 

The words that he speaks - that you speak - you will not really register them until later.  The first thing that you really register is your own voice, calling out against the facts.  Against the inevitable. 

 

 _No_.

 

Once again, he has achieved the impossible for you.

 

And this is a no-win scenario.

 

 

 

/

 

 

Something is wrong.

 

The celebratory mood has suddenly dissipated.

 

People are speaking to one another rapidly, and in hushed voices.  

 

And then Chief Engineer Scott approaches his mother, and murmurs something - and her face pales.  The old man offers her his arm, and she takes it for a moment - although it is not quite clear which one of them is offering comfort.

 

‘What’s going on?’

It’s Lieutenant Saavik - her voice suddenly brittle with anxiety.

‘It’s Captain Spock,’ says his mother, quietly.  She's looking at the girl’s face.  For some reason, David thinks, she's avoiding his eyes.  ‘He saved the ship - he saved us all.  He mended the warp drive just in time.  But he - the radiation.  He’s - he died.’

 

The Vulcan girl makes a small choking sound.   And Carol Marcus - for reasons that he doesn’t understand - suddenly takes her son in her arms.

 

 

 

~

 

 

Much later, the Chief Medical Officer joins them on the bridge.

‘Dr McCoy.’

‘Dr Marcus.’

‘I am _so sorry_.’

His face is grey, and sunken.

David’s mother says softly, ‘Jim.  Is he - ?’

And the doctor merely shakes his head.  

‘Can I see him?’

‘He’s - I’ve put him to sleep, for a little while.’  Dr McCoy makes a face that is meant to be a smile.  ‘More for my own sake, really.  If he’d carried on _coping_ for much longer - I think _I’d_ have broken down.’

 

As they day goes on, David starts to understand.  Not just that Captain Spock was a hero, or that Captain Spock is dead.  But what almost everyone else on board, it seems, already takes for granted.

 

That Captain Spock belonged to his father.  That there are two casualties in this matter.

 

One is Captain Spock.

 

And the other is Admiral James T. Kirk.    

 

 

 

K

 

 

You are the Senior Officer on board.  You have to make the funeral speech.

 

Somewhere, in the confusion of it all, you say things that, once, you probably, meant.  That one day, perhaps, you will mean again

 

But right now they don’t mean anything.

 

All you are really aware of is your own voice cracking, on the word _human_.

 

And all you really understand is that, whatever happens now - your soul will always be alone.

 

 

 

K

 

 

Until now, you have never really understood the concept of _selfish_.

 

He would have done anything for you.

 

Was ready - always ready - to sacrifice his life.

 

To give himself up for your continued survival, or for your needs.

 

So _how the hell_ did he not understand - that the only thing you needed - that the thing that kept you alive, and made you happy, and made you _real_ \- that that thing was him?

 

How could he fail to understand that? 

 

If he was still here - you would _kill_ him.

 

 

 

/

 

 

‘Captain Spock was his - ’

‘Yes, he was.’

‘Why the big secret?’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘Nobody told _me_ about it.’

 

Really, thinks the doctor, this young man is quite tiresome.  So cocky, and so filled with idealism.  In fact, he is starting to remind him of someone… 

 

‘Perhaps we all conspired,’ he says, as gently as he can, ‘to keep it relatively quiet.  Vulcans are intensely private.  And it could have been quite dangerous.’

‘ _Dangerous?_ ’

‘Yes.’  He meets the boy’s serious, puzzled stare.

‘ _Admiral James T. Kirk_ ,’ he says.  ‘The man who’s never lost.  He has a lot of enemies, and if they knew - if they had known how dependent he was on Spock - ’

‘ _Dependent?_ ’

 

 _Bear with him_ , the doctor tells himself.  He’s probably never been in love.

 

‘It worked both ways.’

 

The boy shakes his head.  ‘Someone should have told me.  What harm could that have done?  I suppose my mother knows?’

 

The doctor puts a hand on his shoulder.  

 

‘Dr Marcus,’ he says.  As kindly as he knows how.  ‘I think you need to have this conversation with someone else.’

 

 

 

K

 

 

You keep trying to finish _A Tale of Two Cities._   But every time you open it, everything inside you starts to crack like old glass.  You have just picked up the book again, when someone knocks.

 

‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’

 

That tiresome modern diction.

 

He is practically a stranger - so how is it that he inspires in you, already, so much affection, and so much exasperation?  With his seriousness, and his idealism, and his dash of madcap - _oh_.  Of course.  Spock’s eyebrows would have - 

 

 _Don’t_.

 

You start to brush past him.  To only semi-politely excuse yourself.

And then he says, ‘Lieutenant Saavik was right.  You never _have_ faced death.’

 

That dash of mad-cap brilliance, that goes straight to the point.  That _ruthlessness_ \- you remember - 

 

You remember how well, in your fool-headed way, you often meant.

 

And you sit down again.  You have no desire to win any more.  You are no longer young, or serious - and the madcap idealist in you is cracking like old glass.

 

‘No,’ you say. ‘Not like this.’

 

And you are letting him know the most important thing about you.  

 

How you have loved.  

 

What you have lost.  

 

 

 

K

 

 

The little Vulcan girl - you have grasped, over the past few days, that she has ( _had…oh christ_ ) a crush on Spock.  He was her teacher, and her mentor, and…she is very young.

 

You know, better than anyone, how subject Vulcans are to emotion.  That’s why they have to regulate their feelings - he explained it many times.  Because if they don’t, their feelings break them.    

 

You are sorry for her.  But much sorrier for yourself.  She is a mere child - and childish hearts (you know, from personal experience) - they mend like saplings.  Your heart, on the other hand.  An old, cracked, knotted tree - and once felled… 

 

She has been watching you too.  All this time, she has been _paying attention_.  And if it wasn’t entirely obvious when he was alive - well now - 

 

‘Captain Spock,’ she says.  Her voice full of realisation, and confusion.  ‘He was your - ’

The doctor’s voice is cutting, and harsh  ‘Lieutenant Saavik.  I may not be a Vulcan.  But I am extremely familiar with your culture.  It is neither _logical_ , nor _acceptable_ , to stick your nose in where it isn’t wanted.’

She gasps slightly.  And blushes. 

And then she collects herself.  ‘Doctor.  Admiral.  I apologise.’

You breathe in, carefully.  You have to be careful, because it hurts your chest.

‘Apology accepted.  Officer dismissed.’

 

As she walks away you say, ‘Bones.  I could have handled that.’

‘I know, Jim.’  You feel the steady pressure of his hand on your arm.

 

You wish you had something to fight.

 

A genetically enhanced superhuman, for instance, from twentieth century Earth.

 

 _Anything_ , apart from this gaping wound.

 

This black, ragged emptiness.

 

‘Captain.’  He doesn’t say _Admiral_.  He knows how much you hate it.  You are vaguely aware that he is walking you down the ship’s corridor.  Back towards your quarters.

‘Jim.  I’m going to give you something to make you sleep.’

‘Bones.  I can handle _myself_.’

‘I know you can, old friend.  I’ve been watching you do it.  But watching you do it breaks my heart.  So indulge me, Jim.  Just this once.’

 

 

 

K

 

 

It’s a long time before you come round.  The doctor’s an artist, when it comes to drugs.

 

But when you do…

 

 _There are always possibilities_ , Spock said.

 

Vulcans don’t lie.  They just play semantic games.   

 

And whatever he said about _the many_ -

 

If Spock had been forced to choose between the universe, and your happiness - 

 

Whatever he told you.  Whatever he told _himself_ - 

 

You know what choice he would have made.

 

You know what the doctor would say about _denial_.  But you are the galaxy’s greatest improviser.  And Spock knew it.

 

You must return to this place.

 


	3. III

K

 

 

‘Your son meant more to me than you can know.’  

 

Should you make some kind of revelation?  _Now?_   He would have said, _It is irrelevant_.  But then he would have touched your face, with a gentle, comprehending hand.  Remembering that you are only human, and that the _irrelevant_ is often what matters to you most.

 

Sarek, though, has an agenda of his own.  ‘He would not have spoken of it openly.’

Spoken of _what_?  Sarek matters to you, because he mattered to Spock.  And he hurts you because everything about him hurt Spock, and because - _there is no Spock_.  

 

He hurts you because there is no Spock.

 

‘Kirk, I must have your thoughts. May I join your mind?’

What does he _want_?  

But he is part of Spock.

‘Certainly.’ 

 

So Sarek touches your face.  And you feel him walk into your head.

 

And then - gently, irresistibly - he takes you back to… _that_.

 

‘He asked you not to grieve.’

‘Yes.’

 _The bastard_.

 _As if_.

 

‘The needs of the many outweigh - ’

 

_Why is he taking you back to hell?_

 

‘The needs of the few.’

 

‘Or the one,’ says Sarek.

 

_The one._

 

You just say - 

‘ _Spock_.’

 

Unwittingly you have betrayed yourself.  Have betrayed _Spock_.  But Sarek doesn’t flinch from his task - perhaps, after all, he had already guessed - or perhaps, now that Spock is dead, he doesn’t consider it to matter much.  Either way, he doesn’t falter.  Just keeps poking around in the moment when - the moment _then…_  

 

_I have been - always shall be - your friend.  Live long, and prosper._

 

And it all falls apart- you come unstuck - you thought that, perhaps, you were maintaining some kind of a grip - but of course you’re not.  You hear yourself utter a sound that’s almost a whimper -

 

He has tricked you back - tripped you, and sent you tumbling headfirst into - 

 

_No._

 

It’s you, speaking.  It’s not an order, or even a request.

 

It’s a muted cry of pain in the darkness.

 

Spock’s father understands, and steps back, and lets you go.

 

And looks at you with such sorrow in his eyes - and _such pity_.

 

You should feel humiliated.  But why worry about your dignity, when you have lost your soul?

 

‘Forgive me,’ Sarek says.  ‘It is not here. I had assumed he mind-melded with you. It is the Vulcan way, when the body's end is near.’

You say,  ‘We were separated.  He couldn't touch me.’

 

He died, and he couldn’t touch you.  

 

 

~

 

 

Spock has taught you how Vulcans kiss (although, with your human motor skills, you have never quite mastered it).  The meeting of hands, the pressure of connecting fingers - conveying as much affection as, and considerably more eroticism than, the meeting of human lips. 

 

You have both had lovers from numerous planets - and the physical expression of love between you has been, over the years, to say the least - _multilingual_.

 

But at the moment when the universe ended - it was with his hand that he reached out to kiss you. 

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Bones, are you avoiding me?’

‘You noticed, huh?’

‘There are only five of us on board this ship.  It’s rather hard to miss.  What’s up?’

‘I’ve got your Vulcan lover _inside my head_ , Jim.  That’s what.’

‘I know you have, Bones.  That’s why we’re - ’

 _Oh_.

You stop.

 

The Doctor rolls his eyes.  ‘Jim, right now I want to pin you against the wall, and do things to you that I don’t think I even know _how_ to do.  It’s disturbing, to say the least.’

 

You feel a little dizzy.

 

‘That bad?’

 

He nods.

 

‘Jim, I am more than fond of you.  But in almost _thirty years_ \- I have never, not even once, wanted to have sex with you - ’

 

You are distracted, fleetingly, by a mild sense of disappointment.  ‘You haven’t?’  

 

The doctor shakes his head.

 

‘This _katra_ business,’ he says drily.  ‘It’s not as _spiritual_ as you’d think.’

 

 

 

**/**

 

 

Spock and the Admiral’s relationship has been, for so long, an established fact.  It must be a decade and a half.  It was fun to tease them, of course, in the early days.  All that _flirting_.  Making love to each other with their eyes.  But it’s been a very long time.

 

It is deeply disconcerting, therefore, to have Spock in his head - and to find himself having feelings about the Admiral that are far from tamed.  A continuous awareness of Jim’s _body_.  Being near him is literally exhausting.  Constantly tracking the timbre of his voice, and the smell of his skin.  

 

A fierce possessiveness, a constant longing, and - the Doctor notes it objectively - an almost exclusive obsession.  He has heard that Vulcans are strongly monogamous.  But _this_ - 

 

Being near _the Captain_ blots out almost everything else.  

 

And the Doctor, who has seen himself as a wry old cynic for many years, feels a renewed respect for the Vulcan.  Pursuing his duties so impeccably, going about his day-to-day business so infuriatingly _logically_ \- with all this searing passion, and hunger, and music in his mind.        

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Who are you?  How dare you take prisoners?’

‘Who I am is not important.  That I have them… _is_.  I will allow you to speak to them.’  

 

It is just a game.  And you are a very old hand.  He will bluff.  You will bluff.  One of you will win.

 

And then you hear the girl’s voice, crackling through the static.

 

‘Saavik?  Is David with you?’

‘Yes, he is.  And - ’  Her voice is breathless.  The excitement, and the panic, hardly contained.  ‘And a Vulcan scientist of your acquaintance.’

 

And the world collapses, like a dark star falling in.

 

 

 

K

 

 

You fight with the Klingon, on the surface of Genesis.  He is younger, quicker - and a stronger species.  _Logically_ \- what would be the point?

 

But you aren’t fighting for your life.  

 

It is far, far more desperate than that.

 

You are fighting for your love.

 

 

 

K

 

 

You win.

 

In a way.

 

You kill him.  

 

Ah well.  You have killed many things.

 

You scramble back across the burning, acrid rocks - to the thing that looks like Spock.  The shell that once held the soul you loved.

 

You loved the shell, too.  Lustful, illogical man than you are.  _Hide those ears_.  

 

 _So much_.

 

When you pick him up, the memory hits you like a blow in the chest. 

 

His body in your arms.  His hands against your skin.

 

The coppery taste of his sweat.

 

You have defeated the odds, so many times.

 

Perhaps now the universe is taking its revenge.  

 

 _To hold_ \- and yet not _to have_.

 

If it wants to torture you - the universe is getting fucking sophisticated.

 

 

 

K

 

 

On the steps of Mount Seleya, you wait.

 

And wait.

 

 _Magic spells_.

 

You grew up in a place where only mad people believed in magic.

 

You were educated to believe in science.

 

And _Vulcans_ \- they only believe in logic.  

 

‘Logic,’ Spock said once.  Tumbled in your arms.  ‘What’s the distinction, Jim, between _logic_ and _magic_?’

‘The distinction between _sense_ and _nonsense_?’

‘Perhaps.’

 _His hands against your skin_.

Just one of those mornings.

 

‘In _Wonderland_ , Jim - ’

 

He’s read all the great works of Earth literature.  Almost.  He gave up on Moby Dick (‘They are not _fish_ \- it is not scientific.’  ‘My darling - it’s a novel.  A very old novel.’   ‘I know, _t’hy’la,_ that it is irrational.  But it is so full of… _hate_.’  _Oh, my love._ ).

 

‘In _Wonderland_ , what happens to Alice?’

 

‘I don’t remember, Spock.  She wakes up herself one morning.  And then she falls down a rabbit-hole - and becomes someone else.’

 

‘The funny thing is, Jim - all the words is the story make sense.’

 

‘Perfect logic.’

 

‘Yes.’

 

_I know who I was this morning.  But I must have been changed several times since then._

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘What I have done - I had to do.’

‘At what cost?  Your ship.  Your _son_.’

‘If I hadn’t tried - the cost would have been my soul.’

Slowly, Sarek nods.

 

But the figure in white walks past you, without acknowledgement.  

 

And then he stops.  Stops, and turns round.

 

You had forgotten how beautiful his face was - _is_.  How it has simply become more beautiful with age.  

 

‘My father says that you have been my friend.  You…came back for me.’

‘You would have done the same for me.’  You worry that your voice will break.

‘Why would you do this?’

 _Spock_.

‘Because the needs of _the one_ outweigh the needs of the many.’

 

Words that should have been spoken quietly, in some private place.  But you have to say them now - standing in the heat of a red sun, on an alien planet, in front of the crew of your ship.

 

And then he says your name.


	4. IV

S

 

 

 

James T. Kirk, your father told you, was your _t’hy’la_.  And the meaning wasn’t lost in translation.  You understood the implications.

 

You understand a lot of things - your head is filled with vast constellations of information.  And yet you do not _understand_ \- you seem to have lost the ability you once had (you _know_ you had it, you remember everything) to transmute data into essence.  

 

This man is _the Captain_ \- of that you are sure.  He is your commander.  And yet he looks at you with such frustration, and such need in his eyes - you are able to _read him so well_ , without comprehending why. 

 

The problem is that what he is asking of you - you cannot answer.  

 

You remember what there was between you - a thing of pain, and passion, and confusion, and also of -  

 

You cannot answer.

 

You follow him though.  He is your commander.  Of that you are sure.

 

 

 

S

 

 

‘And another thing.  It’s not _always_ necessary to tell the truth.’

‘I cannot tell a lie.’  You sound - and feel - as shocked as a virgin.  Which is illogical.  Your personal data records, filed neatly in your mind, tell you that you have lied for this man, effectively, three hundred and fifty-two times.

‘I don’t mean _lie_.’  He is standing too close again.  Touching your arm.  His _prerogative?_ No.  That’s not quite right.  ‘But you could exaggerate.’

‘Exaggerate?’

‘ _Exaggerat_ e.  You’ve done it before.  Can’t you remember?’

His voice is brusque.  Exasperated.  

 

 _Pantomime_ , you think, and then wonder where the word came from.  It would seem that you have lost one another, and there is nothing left but this strange, nonsensical patter.  It’s like a bad pastiche of a game that you remember - of a giddy, bitter-sweet flirtation, that turned into - 

 

Your minds reels, and staggers backwards.  

 

You take a certain perverse pleasure in throwing back at him his _colourful metaphor_ (Vulcan politeness, however, is all that prevents you from telling him that he is misusing the term ‘metaphor’). 

‘The hell I can’t.’   

 

The pleasure dies, when you see the despair in his eyes.

 

But you cannot help him.  You cannot help yourself.

 

You remember everything, and nothing, all at once.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘That ditsy guy who knows Gracie’s pregnant - and calls you _Admiral_.’

 

Once a girl like this would have hung on your every word.  Would have melted into your eyes.

 

Now you are just one half of a comedy double-act.  An ageing charade.

 

You wouldn’t mind - if he would call you Jim.  If he would be _the one_.  

 

 

 

S

 

 

 _He came back for you_ , your father said.  He sacrificed his ship.  His son was killed.  

 

 _Why would he do this?_ you asked.And yet - 

 

Implicit in yourself, you have found the willingness to follow this man into hell itself.  To _cheat death_.  Your desire to keep him safe, and your sense of the risks that you would take - you cannot reconcile it with _logic_.  

 

Somewhere inside you is a force that, once unlocked, would overwhelm every _logical_ part of you.

 

It terrifies you.   

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘ _Mission?_   Spock, you’re talking about the end of _every life on earth_.  You’re half human.  Haven’t you got any god-damned feelings about that?’

 

You are fast losing patience.

 

Spock is back - but not _back_.

 

He has not so much as touched you.  When you look at him, there is no answering flicker in his eyes.  

 

He keeps calling you _Admiral_.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘You tricked me.’

‘You need me.’

She could mean many things.

‘Take a seat.’

 

You don’t need her.  You need that ditsy freak who can talk to whales.  Who can guestimate the co-ordinates to take you back in time.  Who can fly you round the sun.  

 

It is automatic to connect with her.  To turn on the charm.  For sixteen years, you have been _so good_.  Well - most of the time.  

 

It wasn’t that Spock minded much - it was that _you_ did.  You would watch him deciding that it was irrational, and therefore unimportant - and it would cut you to the heart.  And you have grown older, of course.  Too dignified - too lazy, perhaps? - to chase after every bit of skirt.

 

But right now - you _want_ to hurt Spock.  You want to call him out.  You want him to remember _who you are_.  Who _he_ is.

 

Where he belongs.    

 

 

 

/

 

 

Aboard a spacecraft that reeks of (so engineer Scott has kindly explained to her) an alien species called _Klingons_ , she watches Gracie and George through the  (impossible) transparent aluminum.

‘Fond of them, aren’t you?’

She turns around, surprised.  

 

It’s Doctor McCoy - an elderly, cynical, charming man, who she already rather likes.

 

‘Yes,’ she says.  ‘Very.’

‘Fond enough to leave your own century.’

‘Yes.’  She hesitates, and then says, ‘San Francisco, 1986.  Believe it or not, there wasn’t very much there for me.’  She smiles, wryly.  ‘There’s a reason a girl spends all her time hanging out with a pair of big fish.’

‘They’re not - ’

‘It was a joke.’

The doctor smiles.  But it’s a distracted smile.  Clearly there’s something else on his mind.  And after a moment he says, ‘Admiral Kirk.  You watch him a lot.’

She opens her mouth, flushes, is about to protest - 

But he says, ‘I think you’ve noticed how unhappy he is.’

‘I - yes.’

‘And you wonder why.’

Slowly, she nods.

The doctor sighs.  ‘Not long ago,’ he says, ‘the Admiral lost the love of his life.’

‘Oh.  I’m sorry.’  She’s aware that the flush has not left her cheeks.  ‘How?’

‘Spock,’ he says quietly.  ‘He died.’

She stares at him.  ‘ _Spock?_   But he’s - ’

‘A pointy-eared, emotionless freak?’

‘ _Alive_.’  

The doctor’s eyes drift past her, back to the whales.  ‘The twenty-third century, Doctor Taylor.  It’s a brave new world.  And strange things - ’  He pauses.  ‘Spock died,’ he says.  ‘And Jim sacrificed almost everything to get him back.  But he’s not himself.  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  He was always pointy-eared - and damned annoying to boot.  But - ’  He shrugs.  ‘None of us know if this is _it_.  We don’t have a precedent.  And Jim’s - I think he’s very confused.’

‘Doctor,’ she says quietly.  ‘Are you _warning me off?_ ’

The doctor makes an odd face.  ‘I’m just warning you,’ he says.   

 

She stays there for a long time, after he leaves.  Watching Gracie and George.

‘ _They like you very much_ ,’ Spock said.  ‘ _But they are not the hell your whales_.’

 

And perhaps it wasn’t just the _pointy-eared freak_.  Perhaps it was a word-for-word translation.  It seems quite logical that Gracie and George should have learned to speak San Franciscan.

 

In the twenty-third century, she thinks, she will have to make her way alone.

 

But it’s a _brave new world_.     

 

 

 

K

 

 

Luckily, in that burst of euphoria when you save the day - intuition kicks into place.  Clinging to the side of the half-submerged Klingon ship, while everyone else is distracted by the whales dancing - you kiss him.

 

When you pull away, he looks at you with complete astonishment.  Has he simply forgotten?  What does he not understand?  

 

Because there is _no part of you_ able to believe that the Spock who loves you is gone.

 

But then you realise that his hand is resting against your face.  It’s not deep mind-meld - but he is receiving a kaleidoscope of your confusion.  Fragments of your questions.

 

‘ _No_ , I - ’  

Which question is he answering?  

‘Jim.’

Maybe all of them.

‘Yes.  Spock.  That’s _me_.  _Jim_.’

‘I knew - I was aware.  I had just forgotten - ’

‘Forgotten what?’

‘How it feels to touch you.’

‘It feels like this.’

‘Where I belong.’  

‘ _Yes_.’

‘At your side.  _As if I’ve always been there, and always will_.’

The reference passes you by.  All you hear is the smile in his voice.  

 

It has been so long since he smiled with his voice.

 

You would be quite happy, now, if the pair of you just drowned.  You would quite happily sink into oblivion, with Spock in your arms.

 

Instead you catch hold of him, and topple with him into the waves.  

 

Everything is going to be okay.  

 

 

 

/

 

 

‘…and we are forever in your debt.’

The whole room erupts into the kind of applause, and mushy self-congratulation, which is an inevitable part of such media-driven affairs.  She has already learned that, in this respect, Earth has changed very little in three hundred years.  

 

But she sees it.  The moment when he turns to Spock, and meets his eyes.  You can tell, she thinks, when two people have been in love for a very long time.  The way they can communicate so much, with a single glance.

 

And the Spock who is standing there is not the one she met.  The one who seemed so strangely damaged, and curiously vacant.  It’s not just the authority of the uniform, she thinks.  This is someone who remembers _who he is._

 

Jim Kirk seeks her out, and is gallant and flirtatious - and she is touched.  

 

But she has a whole galaxy to explore.  And no compunction about leaving him behind.

 

Perhaps she has used him, a little.

 

But he has found his love.  

 

 

 

S

 

 

‘Do you have a message for your mother?’

 

Your mother.  Who pretends to be an elegant, ageing piece of furniture - and who, you now grasp, had no trouble at all reprogramming a sophisticated Vulcan computer, in order to make it ask you a disconcerting question.

 

‘Tell her - _I feel fine_.’

 

Your father looks at you with that weary comprehension you know so well.  The understanding that you are her son too.  And that - you remember knowing it before you died, and (as with so many things) you are starting to _know_ it now - that is why he loves you more than his own soul. 

 

You bid him a dignified Vulcan farewell.  And when you turn around - Jim is waiting.  Standing there with desire in his eyes, and the body language of an impatient child.

 

You walk out of the empty court.  

 

 _At his side_.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Incidentally, you can stop worrying about my sexual fidelity.  You were _dead_ , and I didn’t sleep with anyone else.’  

 

You say this partly out of a vague, unsettled sense of guilt.  A bit of light-hearted flirting in twentieth century San Francisco appeared to go right over _ditzy-_ Spock’s head.  But you worry that fully-rebooted-Spock may register the full impact.

 

‘It is a long time since I have had any concerns regarding that matter.  Captain.’

‘Spock, _how many_ _times_ \- ’

You stop.

 

He is smiling at you.  A real Spock smile, that quickens your heart.

And you smile back.

 

‘Captain.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what, my love?  You can call me _Captain_ as much as you like.’


	5. V

K

 

 

He stands beside you.  And says to Sybok, ‘I have found myself, and my place.’

 

A lot of other things matter - today, and on every other day.  There is always the ship, or the planet, or the galaxy to save.

 

But you know the answer to the only really important question.

 

And the answer is _yes_.


	6. VI

K

 

 

‘We have volunteered to _rendez-vous_ with the Kingon vessel which is bringing Gorkon to Earth - ’

 

_We?_

 

‘ _Me?_ ’  Your voice is little more than an indignant gasp.

‘There are Klingons who feel the same way about the peace treaty as yourself.’  It’s the Starfleet Commander-in-Chief.  ‘But they'll think twice about attacking the _Enterprise_ under your command.’

You have never liked this silver-haired bureaucrat.  But at the moment he’s a passing distraction, because - 

‘I have personally vouched for you in this matter, Captain.’  

 

You stare at him.  As imperturbable, as beautiful, as _infuriating_ , as he has ever been. 

 

‘ _You_ have - _personally_ \- _vouched_ \- ’  You swallow your words, and stop.  

 

This is Starfleet Command.  You don’t want to get all kitchen sink.

 

It’s been twenty-four years, but you never seem to stop pushing each other’s boundaries.  

 

Setting each other challenges.

 

He is still an undiscovered country.

 

And right now you’d like to conquer him, and set up a petty tyranny.  

 

 

 

K

 

 

Swing your eyes to the right.  The way you always have.  

 

And there he is.  

 

More laughter-lines around his eyes, and less ruthless _logic_ in his face.  

 

But he is still just there, at one hundred degrees.  Glancing back at you, as he always does.

 

All yours.

 

 

 

S

 

 

‘I do not understand this representation.’

She is so young.  So fierce.  So full of self-deceit.  You feel a strange sense of pride, and love, and regret, and - _you remember being like that_.

‘It is a depiction from ancient Earth mythology.  The expulsion from paradise.’

‘Why keep it in your quarters?’

‘It is a reminder to me that all things end.’

 

Jim says that everyone is human.  But that you are the most human soul he has ever known.  You pretend not to understand him.  (You have spent your lives together challenging each other.  Playing this game.)

 

But you do understand.

 

Logic is only the beginning of wisdom.

 

It is such a tiny thing.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘I am responsible for involving you in this.  I will go.’

‘No - I’ll go.  You’ll be responsible for getting me _out_ of this.’

 

As you walk away you feel him touch you.  A familiar hand against your shoulder.  You make no acknowledgement - you have more important concerns.

 

But the message stays with you.

 

You will not be alone.

 

 

 

K

 

 

She kisses you, and you let her.  She does have extraordinary eyes.

 

And then she slips away - and the doctor groans.

 

‘What is it with you, anyway?’

 

You want to tell him that Spock will understand.  That he has always allowed for your human-ness.  That you are playing for your _lives_.

 

But you don’t say any of this.  Because the doctor is Spock’s friend, as well as yours.  And he will judge.

 

 

 

K

 

 

Staggering across the icy plain, you remember the pressure of his hand.

 

You remember - you never forget - his words.

 

 _You were not alone_.

 

You are never alone.

 

You can also feel the slight burn, on your left shoulder - it’s like capsaicin - of the Viridium patch.

 

The biggest mystery in the universe is how it’s possible to love someone so much.

 

 

 

S

 

 

You mean to be gentle with her.

 

With this little creature, who has got it wrong.

 

You have been wrong yourself - so many times.

 

So you try to extract the necessary information, ever so gently, from her head.

 

You have to be cruel, however, in the end.  And she is hurt.  Her eyes curse you, when you pull back.

 

‘I’ve been dead before.’

 

You have been hurt too.  So many times.

 

 

 

K

 

 

‘Is it possible that we two - you and I - have grown so old, so inflexible, that we have outlived our usefulness?’

 

You have had this conversation before.  More than once.  

 

You both know how it ends.

 

When one of you says, ‘ _I_ need you.’


	7. VII

S

 

 

One day you look at him, and stop worrying about whether the two of you will grow old together.

 

You already have.

 

 _Foolish old men_.

 

He is still the most beautiful thing in the universe.

    

You are living out your lives together.

 

And they are extraordinary lives.

 


End file.
